


The Cage of Sanity

by Teharissa



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: And Completely snapped, Angst, Basically Joker Junior if Tim was Red Robin at the time, Don't Read This, Drabble, Gen, I'm Sorry, Insanity, Tragedy, he never gets better, super short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-30
Updated: 2019-03-30
Packaged: 2019-12-27 00:54:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18293570
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Teharissa/pseuds/Teharissa
Summary: “Don’t call me that!” Joker lashed out, suddenly angry. Damian flinched as a knife narrowly missed his head, thrown from Joker’s callous hand, “Don’t you dare call me that!”“Wha--”“You want to know what happened?” Joker whispered, voice trembling with uncontrolled anger, “I had an awakening. Timothy is dead--he was tortured, he was left to die, he’s gone. But now, I have been reawakened. Sanity is a lie, the Bat is a ruse. Death is the answer. And the truth--is insanity.”





	The Cage of Sanity

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own DC or Batman Comics.

Tim Drake was dead. Broken and gone, washed away by the tide of his soul. He had been broken for far too long, trapped by the confines of sanity, confined by expectations, doubts, fear.

Tim didn’t have fear anymore. Tim was dead.

But his body still limped around the world--and wasn’t that funny? He stuck around long enough to become a shell, and even as small giggles escaped his lips, he didn’t quite feel anything.

“Drake?” Damian asked this hesitantly, “What did he do to you?”

Worry. It was etched so plainly on Damian’s features, even with the mask. Tim’s body just laughed more, hysterically. Hysteria. It was the proper word, he supposed, for the emotion that seemed to drip from every pore, to overflow his body.

“Who’s Drake?” Tim’s body said, lopsided grin, “I don’t know any Drakes. You must have the wrong person, call again later.”

Damian remained tense, “You didn’t answer my other question.”

Perceptive. Tim’s body--or Joker Junior, he supposed. Though he didn’t really like that name. The Joker sounded much scarier. The Joker was his title now, too. He earned it.

He earned it all on his own. Joker laughed again, stepping closer to Damian, eyes awash with madness.

“Do I have to answer the question, birdy? Do you want the answer?” Joker moved limply, almost as if being drawn forward by an unskilled puppeteer. The movements were jerky, unnatural. Damian stepped back, facade dropping--Joker for once seeing Damian’s true emotions painted so clearly on his face. The fear. The concern.

“Timothy...please….”

“Don’t call me that!” Joker lashed out, suddenly angry. Damian flinched as a knife narrowly missed his head, thrown from Joker’s callous hand, “Don’t you dare call me that!”

“Wha--”

“You want to know what happened?” Joker whispered, voice trembling with uncontrolled anger, “I had an awakening. Timothy is dead--he was tortured, he was left to die, he’s gone. But now, I have been reawakened. Sanity is a lie, the Bat is a ruse. Death is the answer. And the truth--is insanity.”

Damian locked up, his next words barely able to be heard--carried over the still air, “You’re making no sense. Joker did this to you--Timothy, this isn’t you.”

“I thought I said not to call me that!” Joker lurched forward, knocking Damian’s katana out of his hand and slamming him against a wall. Damian trembled, fingers inching towards his belt pouches, but Joker was smart, and raising a knife to Damian’s face. He watched the boy still, watched the bird’s face pale with horror.

The knife already dripped with blood.

And it wasn’t Damian’s.

“You killed him.”

This wasn’t a question, and Joker didn’t deny it. He let his manic smile grow, just a little, and he leaned down to Damian’s ear.

“Bingo.”

Damian seemed to break completely in that moment, shuddering, tears leaking from behind the mask. A single hand fisted in Joker’s shirt, head bowed inwards. It was something he never would have done in front of Tim, and Joker felt a small part of him scream. A part of him writhed to escape, small and broken, yet determined. It was crying for Damian.

Tim wasn’t as dead as he thought. And Joker stilled for a moment, his grip on insanity seeming to slip for a moment. 

And then, with renewed vigour, he slammed the knife into Damian’s neck--hard and too fast for the younger to react. Damian spluttered, a terrified whine leaving his throat, before he crumbled to the ground. Limp. Still. Blood stained his neck, and Joker retracted the knife. 

He polished it carefully, looking down at Damian’s body. The moment had gone too quickly, and a part of him broke--he felt Tim finally disappear, finally leave, finally die.

Tim Drake was dead.

But the Joker remained.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so, so sorry.


End file.
